Here we go.
Beta: College Fool
Cover Art: Dishwasher1910
Book 9: Chapter 13
I dropped a fresh crate of medical supplies at the north market medical camp. Healers instantly beset me, drawing out long ropes of bandage, gauze and other items I knew only the most basic of. Some murmured thanks in a distracted manner. More ignored me entirely, hurrying back to the wounded, who were dotted across the market in cots, tents and bedrugs laid out on the floor. As for twelfth day of the siege of Vale began, the wounded had increased significantly.
Saying twelve days didn't fully describe it. It was twelve days and twelve nights, twelve instances of a full twenty-four hours of fighting, with Grimm that never tired, never slowed and never ceased in their assault. I'd long since given up keeping track of numbers. Maybe a million Grimm had died by now. I just didn't know.
Of the dead, the numbers were fortunately lower – close to a thousand in total. It could have been so much worse and yet it felt awful to say that like all the people who had died so far wasn't a big issue. They had lives and families just like me. Still, the ratio of Grimm to humans slain was heavily in our favour. The wounded not so much. The medical camps were all full, or so I'd heard from the others. Those lightly wounded could be healed with Skills and sent back out, but deeper wounds required rest as well as healing, and it wasn't safe to move them. The camps were overflowing, and each new batch of wounded stretched the Healers further.
There was little I or anyone else in the Guild could do to help with that. Instead, we'd been tasked on transporting the wounded – which was its own kind of gruelling task.
"North wall," Yang said, meeting me outside the camp. "They've a wagon waiting."
The north wall of Vale was connected to Beacon, which made up the easternmost part of the city, and whose wall was, in a way, the east wall of Vale. Salem herself was situated to the west – as like by coincidence as any design – and while the biggest Grimm attacked from that location, no section of the city was left completely uncontested.
So it was that when we reached the north wall, the fighting was fierce. Heroes fought atop the wall with clashing blades, angry cries and flashing lights from Skills used in close quarters, while Archers and other bow users stood on the floor behind, firing up in arcs over the wall. Mages worked alongside them, while others were placed in towers, offering a little more height from which to rain down spellfire on the hordes outside.
There was a section of clear ground at the inner base of the walls. No archers, no Mages and no people walked through it. Every now and then a Grimm would fall, cast down from above or just tripping off the wall. If they survived, Soldiers would rush in and kill it. The ground was empty to prevent anyone being crushed by falling bodies. Sadly, it was not just Grimm who fell.
"There's nothing we can do for them," I said, pulling Yang away. She was looking desperately over the faces of the departed, and I knew why. She was looking to see if her father was among them. "Come on," I urged. "We need to get the wounded down."
Yang held on for a few more seconds but her shoulders relaxed when she failed to find Taiyang. As horrible as it sounded, someone would come to collect the bodies later. We had to focus on the living for now. She nodded and followed me toward one of the ramps leading up to the walls.
There were stone staircases built onto the stone walls themselves, but the parapets had been extended with wooden boards supported by a lattice-structure of girders below, all to give more fighting room on top. Those wooden platforms had ramps built into them to easier allow reinforcements – and potentially even cavalry – to access the walls.
Currently, it was being used to shift those wounded to the back and down. Some staggered down the ramp under their own power but others slumped at the top. I left Yang to usher those on their feet into a wagon.
"I can walk," a woman grunted.
"Please sit in the wagon," Yang said, not trusting her for a moment. A Hero's tolerance for pain wasn't to be scoffed at. They could, and would, grit their teeth and ignore fatal wounds. "The sooner we have you to the healers, the sooner you can get back on the wall and kick ass."
The woman grumbled but allowed Yang to help her up into the back of a horse drawn wagon. There was a wooden slat for her to sit on, which she did, leaning back with gritted teeth. Others were ushered on while I darted up the ramp, boots stomping on wood as I approached the hectic melee at the top. Students weren't supposed to be on the walls and I technically wasn't. Very technically. No one cared to tell me off. They couldn't take the time to look back.
"I've got you," I said to a man twice my age. He was on one side and favouring one leg over the other, a nasty gash down his side and over his hip. "This might hurt a little," I said, hauling him up over my shoulders.
He groaned and went tense in my arms. He let me carry him down, though, and when I reached the bottom Yang passed by me, going up to collect another. The injured on the wagon, those that could, moved to help me get the badly hurt man on and up. They dragged him to the back, making room for yet more than Yang and I would be bringing down.
I left the groaning man behind and went back up, meeting Yang carrying a man down halfway. The cycle continued, us taking the badly hurt while sometimes those less so staggered down under their own power. Fresh reinforcements were sent up as well, one for every person removed so that the walls were never less reinforced than they ought to be.
All too soon, the wagon was full and my hands were covered in blood. I wiped them down on my sides, feeling like a butcher's apprentice, and pulled myself up into the front of the wagon. I looked back, seeing Yang climb on the back and do what she could for the badly hurt. Cracking the reins up front, I brought the horses to a slow walk, trundling the wagon down the road and away from combat.
Yang crawled back up to the front and over to sit with me. "Some real bad cases back there. I don't think any will die before we make it back. Can't say they'll be back on the walls any time soon though."
"At least they'll be alive." I said, looking up at the buildings nearby. Away from the wall these were homes of everyday people living in Vale, and those people looked out the windows curiously or hid in doorways. There was a bell on the wagon I could ring to clear the roads ahead, but no one got in the way. Instead, they watched with naked curiosity.
For many of them, like myself back in Ansel, Heroes were figures of legend. They were impossible people who did impossible things. I wasn't sure if seeing them injured worried these people or not. I wondered how many knew the walls might fall at any moment.
"Cheery lot," Yang grumbled.
"Not much to be cheery about. At least they're not burning buildings down."
"Not since the executions." Yang sighed and kicked her feet up front. It was hardly the time to relax but we'd been working for the past few hours and I couldn't fault her. "At least dad isn't among the injured. That means he's still up there."
"He's on the north wall?"
"Hm."
"That must be frightening."
"It is," she admitted, "But dad's a hero and we're used to it. That's the thing about growing up with Heroes for parents. You get used to them going on Quests. Always think of them as invincible, too. And why not? When you're a little kid and you see your mom lift three times her own weight, you tend to have a high opinion."
"And then Summer died."
"Yeah. That's not anything unusual though. Ruby and I aren't exactly rare for growing up with only one parent, and at least we had her for long enough to remember her. And dad kept on living. Qrow, too." She smiled fondly at the memory of the crazy Druid. "Things could have been a lot worse. As for now, it's scary, sure, but at least he's not alone up there."
"There is that," I said, looking ahead. "We've got just about every Hero in Vale and Atlas here, not to mention the tribespeople from Vacuo. Plus the Healers College. They can patch even the worst of injuries shut."
"Hm. I'm just worried about Salem cracking another hole in the wall." She sighed, "At least if she does, it'll be the west wall again."
I had to wince at that. Yang didn't mean to sound so relieved about people there dying, I was sure. It was just concern for her father. She had a point, though. Ironwood was still unsure why Salem wasted time attacking us at the CCT day after day when she could be cracking the walls open. Penny and the Constructs were still holding true, but they were few and couldn't hold three or four such gaps. Let alone the fifteen she could have opened in so many days.
What is she waiting for? Is she afraid of the CCT?
It seemed unlikely. Her first attack only hit it by accident – a result of striking the wall. If she'd really been afraid, she could have attacked it from the start or even had the Nevermore drop their Fleshborers over Beacon and not Vale. It wouldn't have had the same devastating effect, but the Mages in the CCT were unconscious while they piloted Constructs, so they were all but defenceless. She attacked Vale instead. Nothing she did made sense.
The healer's camp came up ahead and I rung the bell to tell the people there we were approaching. A Soldier came and guided us inside, motioning where we were to park the wagon. Once we had, more came to help the wounded off while another took the horses and untied them from the harness, moving them away to rest while others were brought up.
They had a second wagon waiting for us.
"West wall," the Priest at it said tiredly. "Plenty of injured reported – focus on those who can't walk this time. There's a camp closer that those able to move can make their own way to."
"Don't you want us to take the injured there?" Yang asked.
"Would I say to bring them here if I did?" the woman snapped. "They're overflowing worse than we are. You don't have time to ask stupid questions. Get moving."
"Fine. Fine."
The Priest bristled at the disrespect and moved away.
"Prissy lot, aren't they?" she asked as I climbed up and set the horses to motion.
"Winter says it comes with attending the College. That, and the fact they're overworked right now."
"Hm. And that's coming from the Sentinel to the most powerful man in Atlas. I'm fairly sure she's worked just as hard and she manages to not be a total bitch about it. Speaking of, how are things going in the tower?"
"Not bad?" I shrugged. "It's hard for me to say. Ironwood just needs to stay alive for the Constructs to keep fighting, and I'm making sure that happens, so I guess things are going well. Other than when she launches her attack though, it feels like I'm not doing much."
"You getting Exp for that?"
"No."
"Damn." Yang winced. "That's a shame. I figure something like that would have given a lot."
"I'm just blocking her attacks. If it worked like that, we could level up by hitting one another all day. Unless I make or kill something, I don't get Exp."
Which was a shame, since I was using Purify Object so much, so if I did gain Exp it would probably push my Path toward that – useful against Salem. As it was, Ironwood was toying with the idea of using me as a shield from which to launch an attack on Salem once she had to enter the city proper and we could close the distance. The basic idea was a high-powered spell or array, with me blocking her attacks with a shield while they took the shot.
It was a distant dream right now. Salem was content to wait outside the walls and let the siege stagnate, and Ironwood didn't have any one spell guaranteed to kill so high level an enemy.
Ironwood was working on it.
/-/
The west wall was very much the same as the north. It was by far accepted as the most dangerous, but that was because of Salem in the distance, not the Grimm attacking. With her not casting spells, it was the same as all the others. The wagon was halted down below the west gatehouse and feedbags attached to the horses' mouths so they could eat, and Yang and I made our ways up and down collecting wounded.
The actual gatehouse and gate of Beacon was defended, but not with any expectation of it being breached. The Grimm didn't attack it like human invaders would have and were perfectly content to go over the walls. As such, while it bounced and strained occasionally, the reinforced gates held strong and the beams securing it were in perfect condition. There was still a cadre of Soldiers there just in case, but they obviously didn't expect to see combat.
Pyrrha and Nora were here as well doing very much the same as we were, albeit for the healer's camp at the west wall barracks a little further to the south, along the west wall. I caught sight of Ruby as well, but she only stayed long enough to pass a message on and receive another before rushing back to Beacon.
Weiss would be in a tower nearby casting spells, while Blake was helping clean up the dregs of the Cultists. They were expected to all be dead by now, but Coco wasn't taking any chances on Fleshborers getting loose in the city. I didn't know where Ren was, but expected he was working at a healer camp like us.
"We can only take those unable to walk," I shouted out to the injured waiting nearby. "Orders from the central market camp. The west wall barracks camp is open to those that can make it, and there's a carriage here for those that need it."
The Heroes cursed and I felt awful. They were risking their lives on the walls and some of them, even if they could walk, looked in far too bad a shape to be doing so. Orders were orders however, and Yang and I carried only the most wounded onto the wagon. None of the Heroes complained. I had a feeling the Labour Caste would have cried injustice, but the Heroes were used to it.
That didn't make it right, but they knew what had to be done.
While we loaded the injured up, Grimm fell from above, pushed down to their deaths below. One landed and survived, lashing out and lunging toward us. I had a hand on Crocea Mors, but it proved pointless. The monster was encased in a pillar of fire and immolated by a Sorcerer stationed nearby. Turning back to the wagon, I helped a woman with a badly wounded leg up, letting Yang adjust her on the seating.
A bell tolled behind and Nora and Pyrrha rolled up.
"West wall healer's camp!" Nora yelled. "Bring out your ouches, bring out your bruises. The lovely ladies of the west wall healer's camp are here at last!"
Their timing couldn't have been better. The other wounded, who had been watching disgruntled, rose with soft laughs and raucous comments, making their way to the wagon and climbing on. They packed it full to overflowing, some even hanging off the back. Pyrrha flashed us a smile and a wave before cracking the reins to get them moving, off back toward the barracks that had been turned into a healing zone for the entire west wall.
"That's all of 'em," Yang called. "Ring the bell and let's get moving."
I rang the bell to signal our departure and made the reins crack with a whip of my hand. The horses tossed their heads and moved forward, tugging the wagon to motion and away from the west gate. The wheels bounced on the rough ground and the bell tolled out, signalling to anyone nearby to move out the way.
The sun flickered.
I looked up.
The world flipped.
Up became down and down became up. The wagon cartwheeled forward and I had a brief moment to push my hands before me to break my fall before I struck stone, sprawling out. Wood clattered and rained down around me, along with bodies. A woman, injured and bleeding, struck the ground next to me and lay still. More crumpled ahead, and the wagon itself crashed down to the side, shattering against a nearby building as the horses lay crumpled and dead.
And then – only after I registered the pain – did the sound of a huge blast tear through the air.
It was followed by a wave of hot air.
Shouting, screaming and frantic orders followed. I pushed down with one hand, rolling myself onto my rear so I could look back. My head was spinning, my eyes bleary and unfocused, but I could see the outside of Vale through the once-closed gates to the city. Wooden beams and posts rained down smoking left and right, and some even fell around me. The line of Soldiers that had stood ready were down, some moving, others unmistakably never to move again.
The gates of Vale were open.
The Grimm weren't through yet. Salem's attack – and it could only have been her – had eradicated all the Grimm between us and her, and that gap had to be filled. Already some were swarming to the open gates, but they were met by reserves of Heroes who pushed forward to form a shield wall. It was thin and tenuous, literally only a man wide deep in some cases.
With a roar, the Grimm crashed into them, pushing the Heroes back through sheer weight of numbers. Unlike the walls, thee Grimm had the advantage of solid ground – so when those at the back clambered over the heads of those at the front, they found themselves in the perfect position to crash down on Heroes whose weapons and shields were engaged.
"ARCHERS!" someone screamed. "LOOSE! CONTINUOUS FIRE!"
Arrows scythed forward, narrowly missing the Heroes and puncturing into the Grimm. They pushed some back but not all. It was inevitable some make it past, and the shield wall was pushed flat in places, Grimm punching through. Those that did were met with spears from Soldiers behind, or by spellfire from the towers, but there were so many, and the horde kept coming. The shield wall was being pushed back.
Doors to houses nearby crashed open. People ran out, screaming and huddling loved ones to their chests. They took to the streets and ran deeper into the city. More came rushing out, until soon the very street was filled with civilians charging away from the gate.
And towards us.
"Shit!" I gasped, hauling myself over the closest wounded person – the woman whose side had been cut through. I covered her body with mine, pushing my face into the crook of her neck. "Yang!" I yelled, hoping she could hear me. "Brace!"
The stampede hit. Driven mad by panic the people swarmed over me. Feet trampled my back, hit my legs and stamped on my hands and arms. Some tripped and fell, pulling down others. They scrambled madly, more akin to beasts than people. The injured we'd been transporting were strewn across the street like debris and the frenzied people cared not for them. All they cared about was escaping the Grimm and fleeing deeper into the city.
Once the horde had passed, I dared to look up, and when I did, I saw the extend of the carnage. Those we'd been transporting were, to a man, dead. Trampled and crushed, even the legendary Constitution of a Hero couldn't stand up to such a beating when already on the verge of death. Tears stung at my eyes and I looked down, desperate to have saved at least one. Blank eyes looked back up at me. Blood oozed from under her head, the impact of the initial explosion that flipped the cart, us in it, having killed her.
"Argh." Yang pushed herself up onto hands and knees. Her hair was a mess, her face blackened; blood oozed from a split lip and a cut above her left eyebrow and she cradled her left arm to her side. "F-Fuck. What happened?" Turning, she looked back. Her eyes widened as she saw the open gates. "Oh fuck. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!"
My legs ached as I stumbled over to her, offering a hand and then almost collapsing when she took it. We somehow managed to help each other up, clinging together as war raged behind us. The civilians kept running ahead, panic spreading through the city as people risked their lives in a mad dash. To where, I didn't know. I hoped it wasn't the healers camp. We needed that in one piece.
"The wounded," Yang gasped. She looked over them and her eyes watered. "No, no, no. They were supposed to be okay!"
"Wagon is wrecked," I said. "Horses are dead. Everyone on it is dead." I grimaced. "Flipped when she destroyed the gates." Looking back, I saw more and more people feed themselves into the meatgrinder, trying desperately to push the Grimm back out the gates. "We have to help."
Yang gripped my arm. "We're not in a state to do shit, Jaune. Be reasonable."
"Not fight. We can help drag injured away." I met her eyes. "We have to do something."
"Shit." She bit her lip. "Only injured. No fighting unless they get through. Ruby will have my head if you get yourself killed here."
"No fighting," I promised. "We drag injured aside."
"Right."
More and more people were pushing into the Grimm now. It was a ridiculous method of fighting and didn't really let those at the front fight at all. But it had to be done because it was what the Grimm were doing, pouring more and more into the mass of bodies, and if the Grimm pushed through, everyone in the shield wall would die. There could be no backing out.
I reached it as someone yelled for more Mages. I ducked under pikes stabbing over the heads of the fighters and stooped low, gripping the wrists of an injured woman laid flat on her back. Her eyes met mine hopefully and she clung to my forearms, grimacing as her back and legs, badly cut through, scraped against the floor.
The Soldiers filed aside for me to get her out and some joined mine and Yang's example to help the wounded to lean against nearby buildings. So much more disciplined than the frightened townsfolk, there was no trampling and no panic where it could be avoided. I darted in and out, pulling the wounded to relative safety and going back for more.
The battle raged atop the walls as well as below. Those fighting up there couldn't back away without giving up the walls, while those below couldn't retreat either. If they did, then not only would those in the shield wall die, but the Grimm would reach the ramps and staircases, scale up and attack the defenders from behind. It would be a massacre and the west wall would collapse in the space of half an hour.
"Reinforcements are en route!" someone bellowed. "We'll clear the Grimm back to the gate. Hold the line!"
A loud collection of shouts and roars from the Heroes answered, sounding almost in unison as people fought tooth and nail, straining against the horde. The danger wasn't so much the individual Grimm as their numbers. Everyone was smashed so close together that no one, Grimm or human, could swing a claw or weapon. It was a battle of strength, and even against the huge number of monsters arrayed against them, the Strength of the Heroes held. For now. The Grimm seemed without number and as more piled in, the mass of black muscle and fur grew upward.
Like outside the walls, they were forming a mass of bodies through weight of numbers, and it threatened to spill down like a furry avalanche. There were only so many that the Archers and Mages could kill. Even the Soldiers were chipping in, using spears I'd forged or hurling javelins, axes and even rocks into the mass. Archers loosed waves of arrows, and all the nearby towers had turned their focus inward, abandoning the Grimm outside to fire down on the pocket of Grimm inside the city perimeter.
"Hold! Hold the line!"
I dragged another wounded Hero away and pushed them against a wall – then felt the ground rumble underneath me. I wasn't the only one. Those I'd saved looked down nervously and Yang looked nervously at me. Subterranean Grimm? If so, and if now, we were well and truly doomed. The shaking intensified and the sound of rumbling cracks could be hard, looming closer and close to where the fight was taking place. No one could call a retreat. It just wasn't possible. I prepared myself for carnage, drawing my sword.
The ground split behind the line of Heroes and Soldiers, but the thing that came through was not blackened Grimm flesh but bright silver metal.
Living metal.
Ironwood.
It sang to me – singing joyously as it grew and grew, blossoming over the heads of the Heroes and crashing into the Grimm beyond. The root, for it was shaped like the root of some giant tree, twisted and bulged, breaking the ground further as the thick mass came forth, piercing through Grimm and slamming down onto, and into, the ground, digging back through solid rock on its journey toward the gate.
The Grimm didn't retreat. They were scattered. A second root exploded up, arched over the shield wall and slammed into the mass of black, sending Grimm flying in every direction. It wasn't like a sword cutting through flesh; it was like a battering ram hitting a flock of birds. Those it struck were bludgeoned aside and crushed. Those nearby were slammed down and ignored, bones and bodies shattered as the Ironwood moved on.
I could feel the energy within it. No doubt Ironwood's, the Archmage, feeding his magic through its porous structure. Even then, it felt weak and diluted, understandable given the vast distance between this offshoot and the CCT.
My feet were moving before I could stop myself.
"Jaune!" Yang yelled, trying to catch me. "Jaune, wait!"
The first root had come out behind the line of men, who were now pushing the Grimm back since the Ironwood was keeping more from joining the fray. No one got in my way as I reached the root, easily twice the width of me, and laid my hands upon it.
Immediately, I could feel the way the magic flowed through it. I didn't know why. There was no Skill I had that should have let me do it. It felt more like the Ironwood was showing me. Or just brimming with so much power that it was tangible. I closed my eyes and concentrated. It was like Penny in a sense, warm and alive. And it wanted to grow. I knew that now, knew it from the sheer joy it exuded as it tore through the Grimm.
The magical energy from Archmage Ironwood could accomplish that. In a very real way, he was feeding the magical metal-plants he made. He created them, fed them and helped them to grow, and in turn they responded to his call. Plants in real life did the same, in a sense, responding to sunlight and growing in the direction of it, spreading roots in search of moisture.
Archmage Ironwood fed his magic to make the roots grow because they were living creations of magic. But they were also metal, and if there was one thing I knew affected metal, that helped to shape it, it was heat.
My hands burned. Like before, the heat was swept away so easily by the Ironwood, siphoned and spread throughout the full length of it. Instantly, I knew this root was connected to the CCT. It wasn't made closer. It had come from the CCT, directed by the Archmage underground and probably guided by the Augurs he and Winter would be watching the battle through.
Thin branches burst from the Ironwood around my hands, caressing and touching my skin and weaving up my wrists. Before, I'd been afraid. To tell the truth I still was. But this time, I focused and pushed the branches back, crafting the Ironwood as I would a sword.
"Not me," I whispered to it. "Them."
The Ironwood responded. While the Archmage pushed the roots on toward the gate, vines like bramble speared out from the sides; a sudden explosion of growth that spread out over the Grimm like a net of thin silver filigree. It coiled and wound, suffocated and pierced through flesh, digging and worming its way through Grimm bodies. Leaves sprouted from fur and blossomed all over the area, thin and razor sharp.
While the Archmage provided the boughs, I made the branches and leaves, forming a forest of vines that ensnared the Grimm and continued to spread, moving autonomously but fed by my fire and limited by my will.
Not there, I thought when the vines tried to flow back over the defenders. They curled back as I told them to, happy to oblige because I wasn't trying to stop the growth, only target it. Forwards. Grow forwards. Toward the wall and through the Grimm.
The roots dug their way to the gate and suddenly speared upward. The crowd cheered and I saw in an instant what Ironwood's plan was. He had three roots and they were thick. He could plug the open gate, albeit not fully. Side by side, there would still be space for smaller Grimm to fit through, but in numbers the defenders could deal with.
When the roots touched the top of the gateway, I concentrated and sent a burst of heat through my hands. As I had under Weiss' tutelage, I put aside the notion I needed tools or a forge to smith. I put aside the notion I needed my hands. Like with her new weapon, I closed my eyes and envisioned what I wanted. A door. Or a fence. A fence of solid metal that shone like silver and that had thin horizontal vines like bars between each pillar.
I Engraved those bars. I Stoked the Forge. I pushed with mind and will and asked the Ironwood to assist me. Promised it heat and growth, promised it leaves and branches and vines.
The pillars of metal shivered. They rippled and bulged, thin metal vines reaching up to dig into the solid rock of the gatehouse, others winding around, like they were gripping onto it. Where the Archmage had the roots stand tall and do nothing more, I worked to secure them, affixing them by numerous bands of metal to the wall around it.
Between the roots, vines and branches sprouted out and met one another, intertwining and coiling until thick bands of solid metal stood firmly, blocking all entrance. Sharp leaves bloomed upon them, cutting the Grimm outside who continued to push mindlessly forward.
It took time. Any good tool took time to forge, and a door of this size and mass took longer. I had to curtail the Ironwood's instincts. I had to insist it not weaken the rock and dig too deep. I had to coax the vines to grow outward and not in, and I had to concentrate to make sure the metallic leaves grew on the outer wall, not the inner.
It might have taken me ten or fifteen minutes. It might have been longer. It didn't feel it, but when I eventually pulled back, sensing the longing of the Ironwood to have my fire, I realised that the Heroes and Soldiers around me had mopped up the last of the Grimm inside. Battered, bloody and bruised they looked to the new gate with awe.
I felt a small rush of energy inside me. My body grew just a little stronger, just a little faster.
I'd tipped myself over into a new level. It made sense, I supposed. I'd built something pretty fucking big, and with a material that had to be the rarest metal on Remnant. I fell back and would have collapsed if not for Yang catching me.
"Was that you?" she asked. "Did you do all that?"
"Not all," I said. "Ironwood made it, pushed it, sent it here and forced it to form the main pillars. I…" I swallowed, suddenly tired. "I just filled in the gaps. Made it into a gate. I wouldn't have been able to do any of that without him."
It was more akin to a portcullis than a gate. In fact, it was something you could see through, gaps existing past vines that Grimm were pushing their arms through. It was to no avail. The Ironwood was stronger than steel, and definitely stronger than the thick wooden doors they'd been just as unable to penetrate before.
Beyond it, I could just make out Salem above her Grimm beetle.
The very light around her dimmed.
"No!" I yelled, pushing out of Yang's hands and lunging forward. My hands struck the Ironwood root and I yelled, "Purify Object!"
The beam of black light struck the wall. Thin tendrils shone through, blinding me despite it being made of what looked like black light. The gate buckled and tensed but the attack faded out. The structure held. The people roared their approval.
Light dimmed around Salem again but this time the shot went high, missing the walls entirely.
"The CCT!" Yang screamed.
Ironwood. If she couldn't get me, she was going for Ironwood. With no time to waste and no hope of making it back, I took a chance and put my hands back on the root. "Purify Object!"
Black light washed over the shape of the CCT in the distance. It was all the way on the other side of Vale, literally the furthest point imaginable from where we were. I held my breath, as did everyone there. If the CCT fell, the Constructs fell, and with it the breach they were holding. The tall metallic spire represented more than anyone could imagine.
Salem's attack struck.
I knew it had worked because I felt the spellburn rush back into my hands. I gritted my teeth and rode out the sensation that had by now become all too familiar. The tower stood. The CCT gleamed on, even after Salem's attack had washed away.
"How?" Yang asked.
"It's all connected," I explained, slumping against the root and laughing. "It's all one object. One structure. The CCT is the trunk and this is a root. I purify the object itself. It doesn't matter if it's a bit here or the CCT over there. As long as it's connected, it counts."
"If Ironwood could do this to all the gates, or the walls…" Yang trailed off.
I nodded. If he could produce enough Ironwood for all of that, then I could, from a central location, cast Purify Object on the walls of Vale. All of them. The entire city. Surrounded by cheering and euphoric Heroes and Soldiers, I felt the stirrings of hope within me.
I'm sure it'll last.
I do know that I owe you all a stat update on Jaune's levels, including those he gained in his grinding period. I haven't forgotten. I'm just waiting for him to reach a certain point. I know some like to see them, but they're kind of unimportant right at the moment because they're not going to be utilised fully just yet.
Next Chapter: 23rd September
P a treon . com (slash) Coeur
